Beauty and the Gleeks
by zimbardooo
Summary: Trapped indefinitely in the cursed ruins of McKinley, Santana takes charge and leads with iron fist and stony heart. She and the New Directions have almost given up on their happily ever after when Brittany stumbles upon their enchanted prison. Will she be able to break through Santana's mask of ice and find them all a happily ever after? Brittana AU.
1. Prologue

**Prologue.**

Originally posted 6th May 2012. Re-uploaded 1st June 2012.

**AN: **This is a repost of the story Beauty and the Bitch, which was taken down by site admin a few days ago for having a non-G-rated title/summary. To anyone who was offended or inconvenienced by this, I apologise.

This story is rated T throughout for minor swears and references.

* * *

_Once upon a time in Lima, Ohio, a kingdom falls into disrepair. The ruler is deposed; the inhabitants flee and those who remain are cursed, leaving them powerless to escape. For years they are trapped, frozen in time, waiting for someone bold enough to break the enchantment on their magical prison and set them free._

* * *

Lima isn't the idyllic, quaint sort of place you associate with fairytales. The town's inhabitants are more likely to vandalise a castle than explore it, so it's almost miraculous that the McKinley ruin has survived mostly untouched.

No-one is quite sure how it came to exist. So many rumours have built up around the place that it is almost impossible to separate the truth from the fiction any more. The one common element of the tales parents tell their wide-eyed children as they drive past is that the dilapidated buildings were once part of a school. The William McKinley High School, they recite dramatically to their eager audience, the name somehow embedded firmly in their minds despite the haziness of the other details.

Beyond that, what happened is anyone's guess. Some say an earthquake struck in the middle of a busy lunch-break, and the ruins were left as a memorial to the students and teachers killed in the tragedy. Others allege in a fit of uncontrollable fury, the school's cheerleading coach took a jackhammer to the school's foundations and damaged the place beyond repair. According to a few, a wicked witch had put a curse on the whole institution, destroying the buildings and enslaving the occupants.

But none of that could ever be true. There haven't been any earthquakes of that magnitude in Lima in living memory and there's no way that anyone, not even a national championship winning cheerleading coach, would be able to get away with that sort of atrocity. And everyone knows there's no such thing as magic.

Maybe if it was somewhere other than the middle of Ohio, the McKinley ruin would be something of a tourist attraction. A real-life fairytale, if you will. As it is, it became something of a folk legend to the people of Lima.

The wide-eyed children grow up, grow into surly adolescents too old for fairy stories and make believe. When it is their own turn to attend high school, they flock to the comprehensive school across town in Lima Heights. They get involved in schoolwork and friends and parties, and gradually the stories of their childhood fade into obscurity. They graduate and have children of their own, and the story is revived, and the cycle continues.

Occasionally someone brings it up in passing. _Oh yeah, that McKinley place. Wonder what happened. It'd be a mad place to crash. _Every now and some teenager, egged on by their laughing and hooting friends, will try to scale the walls and see what lies inside. None of them make it. Maybe it's because they're too drunk or high to achieve co-ordinated movement. Maybe there's something else to it. Eventually, they give up. Eventually, they forget. Everyone does.

Everyone except for Brittany.

Brittany, the poor dear, has always been a little odd. Or so her mothers' friends whisper to each other when they think she can't hear them. (_Brittany hears everything_). The poor, sweet, simple child. (_She's not as dumb as they think she is_). Caught up in her fairytale world, she and her cat. (_Lord Tubbington never talks about her like that_). Let her pretend. Let her dream. (_She knows this is real_).

Brittany never stopped believing.

And one day, she promises herself, she will find out the truth about McKinley.

* * *

_Just a small-town girl who owns neither Glee nor Beauty and the Beast. I hope to have the previously-posted chapters reuploaded within the next few days; in the meantime, sorry for the delay. Feedback is, as always, appreciated. Thanks for reading (:_


	2. Spies and Surprises

Originally posted 22nd May 2012. Re-uploaded 2nd June 2012._  
_

_To my great disappointment, I have not mysteriously acquired either Glee or Beauty and the Beast since last writing; once again, I own nothing.  
_

* * *

"Surprise!"

The hands clamped over her eyes are removed suddenly and Brittany shrieks, almost tumbling off Artie's lap. Lord Tubbington lets out an angry hiss, slipping inelegantly out of her arms and waddling over to nestle himself in the blanket that has been spread over the ground. Brittany, however, barely notices this.

"Artie!" she cries out before falling silent, lost for words.

As he watches, she moves slowly off his lap, taking a few shaky steps before stopping to stare in wonder. Just a few metres away the remains of McKinley rise from the ground, the crumbling walls casting distorted shadows over the unkempt grass.

For as long as he's known her, Brittany has been fascinated by the McKinley legend. Sure, it's a cool story but she genuinely seems to believe it, even though there's no way it can be true. That's the thing about her, he muses- her childish innocence is endearingly charming, although she can be almost frustratingly naive at times. Still, he figures it can't hurt to indulge her fantasies just for one day.

"Do you like it?" he asks nervously, wheeling his chair over to her.

"Artie," she repeats, tearing her attention away from the ruin for a second to look at him. Her eyes are shining with excitement, and he can't help but to laugh at the marvelling look on her face.

"Artie, it's amazing!" Her gaze snaps back to the abandoned buildings and she takes a few more stumbling steps towards it before sinking to her knees on the picnic blanket, still staring rapturously up at it.

Smiling in relief, he swings himself out of the chair to join her on the ground. While she is still distracted by the ruin, he takes the opportunity to reach into the picnic basket and pull out a top hat and magic wand. Sticking a fake moustache to his upper lip, he clears his throat to get her attention, grinning when she gasps in surprise at his sudden change in appearance.

"Since it's your birthday, Brittany," he says in what he hopes is an appropriately mysterious tone of voice. "How would you like to see some magic?"

* * *

The faint strains of 'Happy Birthday' ring out across the grounds of McKinley, echoing in the cool autumn air. The open space surrounding the ruin is deserted but for the singer and his audience of one, and so the song almost goes unnoticed. _Almost_.

By chance or otherwise, someone passing through one of the apparently abandoned corridors of the former school catches a snatch of the melody sung in a handsome tenor voice. It is lucky that she is the one to overhear; not all of the ruin's inhabitants have her naturally discerning ear, honed by years of intensive training and practice. Really, she is hardly surprised that she is the only one to have picked up on the peculiarity, absorbed as they others must be in the mediocrity of their own stagnating lives.

Her pace quickens as she hurries through the halls of the building, her head swivelling in all directions as she goes. It has been years since she has heard anyone other than herself sing, and while she had initially thought it a dream come true, she was shocked to find that it is possible to become sick of the sound of your own voice. Even if it is one as soulful and talented as hers.

Picking up speed as the song draws to a close, she bursts out into a courtyard from which the voice appears loudest and is surprised to find that the song is coming from somewhere outside the complex. Undeterred and drawing from years of experience spying on the competition, she scrambles up the wall, managing to hoist herself high enough to peer over it.

Almost directly below her vantage point, two teenagers sit facing each other on a blanket. Evidence of what appears to be a birthday picnic is scattered haphazardly around them; a cat is curled up next to a wicker basket and a wheelchair is standing on the grass a few metres away. She observes silently from the shadows as the boy finishes his song, pulling a paper crown out from behind the girl's ear and setting it on her head as she giggles happily. Neither of them notices that they are being watched.

Finally the onlooker wrenches her eyes away from the scene, turning to hiss into the yard behind her.

"Noah! Noah, get up here!"

There is the sound almost like a scuffle from nearby, and then a bedraggled head appears around the corner of a building, a decidedly disgruntled expression on its face.

"What the hell," the owner of the head groans, blinking in annoyance. "I swear Rachel, if you've woken me up for some dumb reason _again_-"

"Noah," Rachel cuts him off sharply. "Unless you consider the presence of intruders, potential _spies,_ in McKinley _just_ _another dumb reason- _then no, I haven't."

Noah's eyes widen as he realises what she is implying.

"Dude," he breathes. "You mean-"

"Yes," she replies, no longer looking at him. "Come _on_!"

After several moments of rustling and some muttered cursing from the ground below, a second observer joins the first in peering over the derelict old wall.

"Dude, that chick is hot," is his immediate remark.

His comment is followed by a dull thump and a muffled squawk of pain.

"Son of a- damnit, Rachel, what was that for?"

"Be quiet, Noah" Rachel hisses, keeping her eyes trained on the couple below, who are still oblivious to their surveillance.

"Well, she _is_," he replies defensively, squinting down at the subject of their conversation. "What's she doing with a nerd like that?"

"Noah," she hisses again, diverting her attention for long enough to shoot him a ferocious glare. "Could you take things seriously for once in your life? He could be our only chance at getting out of here!"

"What, Wheels McCrippleson?" he scoffs. "Dude won't stand a chance against the Bitch. Blondie, on the other hand.."

"Noah, she's a girl!"

"No duh," he replies, his eyes fixed on the subject of their discussion. "I know she's a chick. But she's hot."

"Be that as it may," Rachel attempts to regain control of the direction of their conversation. "The Bitch is notorious for being otherwise inclined. Or have you already forgotten her reputation?"

"You'd be surprised," Noah chuckles reminiscently. "She was a wild one.."

"Whatever," Rachel rolls her eyes. "The point is, Noah- they could be our only chance of escaping this place! We need to get them- _her_-" she amends, seeing his pointed look. "-In here, into McKinley and into the Bitch's heart, if she even has one left. It's the only way!"

"Are you kidding?" he asks flatly. "I'm the Puckster. I don't set up chicks, I get up chicks. Besides, you don't even know that that true love crap will work on her."

"Noah," Rachel says, her voice taking on a sudden dangerous tone. "Do you want to get out of here at all? Do you _want_ to be a Lima loser forever?"

"Alright, alright," he scowls, the comment having touched a nerve. "Keep your panties on, Rachel. I'll do it."

He hops down from the wall and moves off, muttering under his breath as he goes.

"And so it begins," Rachel whispers to herself, taking a moment to appreciate the dramatic potential of the scene as the faint strains of a music box melody fill the courtyard.

* * *

_So assessments are (mostly) over, and I finally had the chance to get this up. Sorry about the delay; I ended up splitting this chapter into two because of the length, so the next update should be within a week. Thankyou to everyone who reviewed, favourited and alerted the prologue- I was blown away by the response, and hope this chapter lived up to your expectations._

_This is my first time writing Brittana and a lot of the ND characters, so again, reviews and feedback are very much appreciated. Thanks for reading (:_


	3. Conspiracies and Consequences

Originally posted 25th May 2012. Re-uploaded 3rd June 2012.

___This is the last part of the re-upload; from hereon in, all updates will be new content. _Still don't own Glee, which I am currently almost thankful for given the backlash over the last episode..

* * *

"And now for my final trick!"

Handing Brittany the rose he has just 'conjured', Artie rolls up his sleeves and replaces his top hat with a flourish.

"There's more?" she asks, wide-eyed.

"Of course there's more," he grins at her. "Everyone knows that the Birthday Girl gets a special Birthday Wish! So, Brittany- what will it be?"

He knows that he is taking a massive risk, but chances are she'll ask for something easy enough. At worst, he can drive her to the mall and buy her whatever she wants, but hopefully it won't come to that. Personally, he's hoping she picks a birthday cake, because there's one in the picnic basket and he's kind of hungry.

Brittany opens her mouth to reply but instead of words, a melody spills out across the open grounds surrounding the McKinley complex. He almost doesn't notice it- the tune is so faint that he almost has to strain to hear it- but she is more easily distracted than he is.

"What's that noise?" she asks him instead.

"Thinking music," he improvises, hoping to hurry her along so they can get around to the food. "So, what will it be?"

"But what's making the music?"

"I don't know," he tells her, a shade of annoyance slipping into his voice. "A music box. Or something. It doesn't matter. What matters is your birthday wish."

Brittany sits back on her heels and closes her eyes for a moment, lost in thought. Artie is starting to wonder if she has fallen asleep when her eyes snap open again, and she smiles brightly at him.

"I want it."

"What?" he asks, totally lost.

"I want it," she repeats. "That music box."

His stomach drops as he works out what she is talking about.

"That.. _that_ music box?" he asks, his mouth dry. "That specific one?"

Brittany nods, apparently pleased that he understands. Artie, on the other hand, is decidedly less happy about the situation.

"But there are plenty of other music boxes around," he protests, beads of sweat breaking out over his forehead.

She frowns at him in confusion. "But I want that one."

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice pleading. After all the lengths he's gone to, he'd hate for the charade to fail now. "I mean, I could make you one, or we could go to the mall and find you a really pretty one, or-"

"No," she says firmly. "I want that one. You're magic, Artie, I know you can do it."

The awful feeling in the pit of his stomach grows as he realises that he is trapped. There is no option but to break the truth to her, and he never wanted to be the one to hurt her like this.

"Brittany," he begins, choosing his words carefully. "You're right. I can do magic. I can make roses appear and pull crowns out of your ear, and even make cupcakes."

It is fairly easy to amaze someone who thinks basic cookery is some sort of miracle. In hindsight, he wishes he hadn't raised her expectations quite so high.

"But there are some things that I just can't do, Brittany. I'm sorry."

He counts to ten in his mind before looking up to meet her eyes, bracing himself for the crushing look of disappointment he expects to see. When he catches sight of her face, however, he is taken aback to find that far from looking like her dreams have been shattered, she is wearing a blank expression. If anything, she looks vaguely amused. But then again, sometimes it can be a little hard to tell with Brittany.

"Artie," she says seriously, leaning forward to take his hands and staring at him intently. "I believe in you." She smiles suddenly, as if she has just solved all of their problems.

"Uh, thanks Brittany," he replies uncertainly, ignoring the tingling feeling he gets from holding her hands. _Not the appropriate moment_. "But I still don't think-"

"No," she interrupts him, speaking slowly as if explaining something to a young child. "Don't you get it? _I believe in you_. I know you can do this, Artie. You just have to believe."

His heart sinks as she only continues to beam up at him adoringly. He can't just tell her. Not here, not now, not like this.

"Alright," he says heavily, already resigning himself to failure. "I'll try my best."

"That's what matters most!" she chirps in an eerily accurate impression of the teachers at their school, already scrambling up to help into his wheelchair. He can only smile weakly back at her as she waves him off happily, evidently pleased at having helped him to overcome his self-doubt.

He doesn't expect to get far at all- everyone who has tried to get into McKinley has failed, reporting that the ruin is impenetrable and the walls impossible to scale. Add his chair into the equation and Artie fully believes he will be forced to turn back within minutes. Which gives him precious little time to work out how to break the news to Brittany..

However, as he rounds a corner and disappears out of her line of sight, he is surprised to find the rusty iron gates of the school standing wide open. The mysterious music is louder now, and for a bizarre moment he feels an ominous sense of impending doom; as if he is in a horror movie and something terrible is about to happen.

The moment passes. He shakes his head at his own absurdity before propelling his chair through the open gates towards the source of the music. If he's gotten this far, he reasons, he might as well see if he can manage to find Brittany's music box. God knows it will save him a lot of explaining..

* * *

Rachel and Noah watch in tense silence as the boy in the wheelchair makes his way slowly along the winding corridors, getting closer and closer to their hiding place. As he rounds the final corner and turns into the yard, Rachel goes so still that Noah could swear she has actually stopped breathing.

The two of them shrink back into the shadows as the stranger wheels past. Nobody has ever noticed them in all the years they've been watching out for intruders at McKinley, but then again none of them have ever got this far, come so close.

Noah finds himself leaning forwards in anticipation as Wheelchair Kid crosses the yard with agonising slowness, drawing nearer to the dais where the music box stands, inching closer, closer-

He is watching so intently that he doesn't notice the flicker of movement in the corner of his eye for several moments. When he finally diverts his attention to check it out he does a double take and a groan of horror escapes him. Rachel turns to reprimand him but stops short when she too catches sight of the disturbance. Her mouth drops open, but Noah beats her to speech.

"Crap," he curses. "She's coming. Matt, stall her!"

A soft swoosh from behind him makes Artie stop halfway across the courtyard and swivel around in his chair. He stares back the way he came but there is no sign of movement, for which he is rather thankful. Then he frowns. Strange, he doesn't remember that tree being there before..

Rachel and Puck hold their breaths, watching as Matt remains perfectly still. Wheelchair kid moves a metre or two towards the tree, before apparently convincing himself that there's nothing wrong. The two hidden observers breathe a sigh of relief when he wheels around again, heading back towards the source of the music.

Their relief, however, is short-lasted.

"_What_," hisses an icy voice from behind them, making them freeze instantly. "-_Is going on here_?"

Rachel turns slowly to see the Bitch herself, in all her terrifying glory, looking entirely capable of murder.

"I- we were just-" she begins when there is a sharp intake of breath from beside her. Confused, she turns to see Noah staring open-mouthed at the boy in the wheelchair, who has moved right up to the dais itself and is stretching out a hand towards it.

There is a strangled sound of fury from behind them as the Bitch realises what is happening.

"Move, Rutherford!" she snaps and Matt scuttles aside immediately, melting back into the shadows and disappearing.

In the next moment, Rachel is knocked to the ground as the Bitch shoves Noah aside, striding deliberately forward with a series of ominous clangs.

His fingers are mere inches away from the music box when Artie hears the disturbance behind him. Heart pounding, he wheels around and finds himself face to face with the single most terrifying thing he has ever seen.

Its shape is humanoid, and it is sheathed in a suit of armour like that of a medieval knight. His first, hysterically irrational thought is that it is a Cyberman, but as it comes to a halt half a metre away a chill creeps up Artie's spine as he realises that the Creature is even more terrifying than that.

Somehow, its armour has been crafted out of sheets of ice.

"_What_," the Thing hisses in a tone as cold as itself, "-_do you think you are doing?_"

The atmosphere it radiates is approximately as cool as the Arctic, and he finds himself quite literally shivering in fear. Frankly, he is surprised that his blood hasn't simply frozen in his veins.

The Creature taps its foot impatiently and Artie realises that he has been staring at it with his mouth hanging open. He replaces his jaw quickly, willing his brain to come up with an excuse, an explanation, a plan of escape, _anything._ He opens his mouth again, still not entirely sure of what he is going to say, but is apparently not quick enough.

An icy cold grip closes around his upper arm and hauls him forcibly away from the platform on which the music box rests, almost dragging him out of his chair. The Thing's visor shields its eyes from view, for which he is rather grateful. With the turn things have been taking, he wouldn't be altogether surprised if its eyes could shoot laser-beams.

"What do you think you are doing?" it asks again, giving him an impatient shake. It's as if his tongue has been shaken loose- all of a sudden he finds himself talking, babbling, not quite sure how he started and not quite sure how to stop.

"I'm sorry, I- I didn't mean to offend you, I just- See, I brought my friend Brittany here for a picnic because it's her birthday and she has this massive obsession with this place, don't ask me why, no offence or anything-" he rambles.

The Creature releases its grip on his arm, apparently taken aback by his sudden verbosity, but Artie is unable to stop.

"-But she heard this music, and she really, really wanted to know what was making it, and I couldn't say no because it was her birthday wish and it'd be like crushing her dreams, I couldn't take it and I'd never forgive myself-"

The Thing clears its throat pointedly, but still he babbles helplessly on.

"-So I decided to pretend to look for it, and I didn't expect to find anything at all but the gates were wide open and I didn't know anyone lived here, I swear I didn't-"

Finally the Creature jerks its head in a gesture of impatience. For a split second, the light catches the back of its armour and Artie, on the verge of running out of breath, catches a glimmer of- but no, that can't be. Could it? _Are those really razor blades on the back of its head in place of hair?_

The shock sends him faltering into silence, broken only by his heavy breathing.

"So," the Thing says, looking down at him in what he can only assume to be a disdainful manner. "You broke into the grounds because your, ah- _friend_ thought she heard something."

Artie bristles at this. "She did hear something. She heard music. That music."

He gestures to the music box and the Creature turns, noticing it seemingly for the first time. With a few quick strides it crosses the courtyard to the dais, slamming the box roughly closed and bringing the melody to an abrupt conclusion. Breathing heavily, it returns slowly to stand before Artie, who fights the urge to cower away.

"So," it repeats softly. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry," he apologises. "I'll go, I'll- I'll never come back, I swear!"

"Oh, no, no, no," the Creature coos, its voice suddenly ominously sweet. "You wanted in, you got in. Now you stay in."

"I- _what_?" he asks, shocked.

"You heard me."

"But- I can't do that!" he protests, a hint of desperation in his voice. "That's crazy! You can't seriously expect me to just put my life on hold to stay here. There's got to be some other way!"

The Thing is silent for a moment, lost in thought. Artie watches it cagily, sitting bolt upright in his chair, fists clenched around the armrests and looking the very picture of outrage.

Slowly, the Bitch raises her head to look at the boy again and Noah groans softly at the all-too-familiar, coolly calculated action.

"Oh, he is _so_ going to get it," he mutters to Rachel. She can only nod in response.

"Alright," the Creature says, its voice dangerously soft again. "I'll let you go."

Artie exhales shakily, but his relief does not last long.

"-But only if you send your _friend_ here instead."

"You're joking," he says flatly.

"Does it sound like I'm joking?" it snaps in response. "Here's the deal, Four Eyes. Someone's going to be honeymooning here, and it's going to be either you or your little girlfriend. Your choice."

The Creature's face is obscured, but the smirk is evident through its voice.

"Alright," Artie forces out weakly. "I'll do it. I'll stay."

Noah's eyes widen and he starts forward in protest, but Rachel's restraining hand on his back stops him. The Bitch tilts her head, and though her face is masked they both know that a predatory smile will be spreading across it.

"But.. Can I just say goodbye to Brittany before I.. before I leave her?" he asks hesitantly.

Rachel doesn't think much of his chances, but to her surprise the Bitch acquiesces with a wave of her hand.

"But don't even think of trying to run away," she calls after him. "Unless you want me to come after you."

Noah knows she will do no such thing; it would involve far too much effort for her liking. But from the way Wheelchair Guy shudders visibly and hastens his exit, the prospect is terrifying enough to ensure his return.

* * *

The sun is just beginning to set as he leaves the McKinley ruin empty handed. Brittany is still curled up on the picnic rug, talking idly to Lord Tubbington as she pets him. She looks up expectantly as Artie approaches, opening her mouth to say something when he interrupts her.

"Brittany," he starts, cutting her off because _this is only going to get harder if she starts speaking now. _Taking a deep breath, he begins his explanation.

"You know how you thought there was something.. magic about McKinley?"

Brittany nods, her eyes wide.

"Well," he swallows, mouth suddenly dry. "Well, it turns out you were right. There's something in there, something living in there- I don't know what it is," he adds hastily as Brittany opens her mouth to ask. "But it was there, and it was cold, and it was terrifying."

He breaks off for a moment, breathing deeply, trying to stay calm for her sake.

"I went looking for your music box, and I found it- but that _thing _found me first."

Brittany's eyes are wide as saucers and she is biting her nails, staring at him with that look she always wears whenever he reads her fairytales. Only this time, it is more like a nightmare. Only this time, it is real.

"It caught me near the music box, and it-" he falters, searching for the right words to explain this, but there are no right words for this wrong, wrong situation.

"It won't let me go. I have to stay here."

"No!" she gasps, looking distraught.

"I have to," he tells her, unable to meet her eyes.

"I can't let you do that, Artie. You're my best friend."

Even in this hopeless situation, it still hurts to hear her say that.

"There's got to be another way!"

He laughs bitterly at her unwitting echo of his own words. "Well, there is. It'll let me go, but only if I send you instead, and-"

He breaks off. _I can't do that to you_, he was about to say, but the look on her face stops him. Instead of the stricken look he had expected- _after all, he could be leaving her forever_- a sparkle has reappeared in her eyes, and she looks almost hopeful. But that can't be. He knows Brittany can be a bit slow on the uptake sometimes, but there's no way she could be-

"I'll do it," she says decisively.

His head jerks up as his train of thought is interrupted. "I- Brit, I can't ask you to do that for me-"

"You don't have to ask," she tells him. "I want to do it." Her voice is laced with a steely determination that simultaneously impresses and terrifies him, making him want to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Are you sure?" he asks instead, not entirely sure of what he wants her answer to be.

"Artie," she says, suddenly serious again. "I can't just leave you in there all by yourself."

He blinks, bamboozled by her logic. "But-"

"I'll be fine," she reassures him, apparently mistaking his confusion for concern. "I'll take Lord Tubbington with me, and he'll keep me safe from your monster."

He is speechless. Before his brain catches up with the situation and he is able to process what is happening, she has already packed up the picnic in a blur of motion and is standing before him, brushing off her dress and looking down at him intently.

"Brittany, I-"

"Don't worry," she interrupts him again, strangely confident as she comforts him. "I'll be back before you know it."

She leans over, dropping a fleetingly light kiss on his cheek before straightening up. Flashing him a last dazzling smile she scoops up Lord Tubbington before turning and skipping off into the ruin, the cat cradled obliviously in her arms.

He can only watch as she disappears down the maze-like corridors of the complex, the rusty iron gates creaking slowly shut behind her. He remains sitting there, staring at the corner around which she has vanished long after the echoes of her footsteps have faded into silence.

Finally, he wheels around and turns to leave. A few metres later he stops abruptly in his tracks as it hits him.

Brittany is gone.

Brittany is gone, and despite her assurance he doesn't know when- or _if_- she will be back.

Hot on the heels of this realisation comes another thought that sends him panicking.

_How is he going to explain this to her parents?_

* * *

_So apparently Artie's not the only one suffering from sudden verbosity.._

_Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and alerted, you guys are amazing. As well as that, I'd like to thank everyone for their patience and understanding when the story was taken down, and for hanging on during the delay in getting it back up. The next update should be in a week or two, once my assessments (yes, again) are over and I have a spare moment to write. Thanks for reading (:_


	4. Lost and Found

_So from hereon in, just assume that I don't own Glee. In the extremely unlikely event that this changes, I will be sure to let you know. Loudly. And probably rather obnoxiously._

* * *

The old school gates swing slowly closed behind her, finally creaking shut with a loud clang that reverberates throughout the deserted area. Brittany barely notices but Lord Tubbington starts in her arms, waking abruptly with a hiss of discomfort. When reassurance fails to be provided he growls disgruntledly and slips out of her arms again, slinking away over the uneven concrete with as much dignity as his stumpy legs will allow. This at last attracts his human's attention, and she tears her eyes from where she had been gazing wonderingly around the complex to search for him.

"Lord Tubbington!" she scolds, half-skipping across the grounds after the runway cat. "Lord Tubbington, where are you going? Come back!"

For an animal of his size, he moves unexpectedly swiftly. By the time Brittany reaches the entrance of the nearest building he has long since disappeared into it, and she has to strain to try and hear which path he might have taken.

After a minute of screwing up her face in concentration, listening for the distant tinkling of the bell attached to his collar without any success, she is forced to resort to another strategy.

"_Eenie meenie miney mo.."_

* * *

"I told you so," Rachel repeats, jabbing a finger in Noah's face and almost taking out his eye. He turns away, irritated, but she follows him doggedly.

"I told you it would be that boy in the wheelchair, but no, once again my brilliant insights are ignored!"

"Shut up," Noah grits out, still striding determinedly away from her as she follows him out of the courtyard and into one of the school's numerous corridors.

"You seriously thought it would be that girl," she continues undeterred, unable to keep the hint of smugness out of her tone. "You actually thought she would stand a chance with the Bitch."

"What do you want, Rachel?" he asks tersely, not bothering to look back at her.

"Admit that I was right!" she calls after him from where she has come to a stop between the rows of lockers. "You were wrong, Noah, and you know it!"

"Fine, you were right!" he yells, finally turning to face her. Rachel shrinks backwards slightly, because even with the safe distance between them the look of frustration in Noah's eyes is strong enough to be intimidating.

"That chick had no chance with the Bitch. She was just some dumb blonde who probably wouldn't last a minute with her. There, I said it! Are you happ-"

Rachel's expression of smug triumph morphs into one of abject horror as a brownish blur comes streaking around the corner at the far end of the corridor, bowling Noah off his feet before he can finish his sentence. She is starting forward before the struggling tangle of limbs has even hit the floor, calling out without even thinking-

"Noah!"

* * *

Brittany tilts her head in surprise at the sound of a sudden commotion nearby. Peering around the next corner, she lets out a gasp at the sight that greets her.

In the middle of the hallway, Lord Tubbington is poised in what she calls his Super-Attack-Cat-Mode; one paw pinning a struggling ball of feathers to the floor and the other paw raised, ready to strike-

Brittany blinks. _Is that a chicken?_

And there, wobbling around behind the two fighting animals- _is that a clock trying to pull Lord Tubbington away with its short stumpy arms_?

"Hey!" she shouts, and all three creatures look up at the sound of her voice. The looks on their faces are stuck halfway between surprised and scared, as if she has caught them doing something they're not supposed to be doing.

"Lord Tubbington!"

The cat lets out a weird huffy sound, but steps over the chicken and waddles over to where she is standing, allowing her to pick him up and cradle him against her chest.

"Don't run away from me like that," she scolds the cat in her arms, oblivious to the significant looks being exchanged by the chicken and the clock in front of her.

Lord Tubbington makes a funny grumbling noise that she figures is his way of saying sorry. She smiles down at him- _she can never stay mad at him for long, it's like he can brainwash her or something- _and bends her head to press a kiss to his nose when they are interrupted by a loud chiming.

Both cat and owner turn their heads to see the clock and the chicken standing in the middle of the corridor, looking importantly up at them.

Well, the clock looks important. The chicken looks kind of like it has been standing under a hair dryer; its feathers are sticking up everywhere and it is wobbling on the spot like it can't stand up properly.

The clock chimes again, looking a bit impatient now, and Brittany blinks at it.

"Yes?" she says uncertainly.

As she peers down at it, the clock begins to do a funny little dance, waving its stumpy hands around in the air and tottering around unsteadily.

"You want to dance?" Brittany guesses.

The chicken shakes its head so fast that the red bits dangling from its head wobble around. The clock stops dancing for a moment, before starting to gesture again.

"Oh! Is this like charades?" she asks after watching for another minute.

The clock's face breaks into a grin and Brittany smiles too, clapping her hands excitedly as the creature moves again. It jabs a stumpy finger at her, then draws a funny round shape in the air. She frowns, trying to work out what the answer is.

"Um.. I'm a circle?"

The clock wobbles again, like it's trying to shake its head, and backs up a few steps, repeating the gesture. Brittany steps forward automatically after it, and then jumps in surprise at the vigorous chiming that follows her movement. Thinking hard, she tries to put everything she knows together.

"You want me to follow you?"

Brittany doesn't bat an eyelid when the chicken and the clock scurry off immediately as if they simply assume she will follow. It doesn't seem at all out of the ordinary that they should happen to be playing charades in the middle of a supposedly abandoned school building. It doesn't even occur to her to be surprised when the creatures begin talking to each other as they move through the corridors.

"I take back what you made me say before," the chicken grumbles. "That thing is a monster. It nearly killed me!"

"Alright, you've made your point," the clock snaps back. "I may have slightly underestimated the threat posed by the girl."

Brittany frowns. _Are they talking about her?_

"_Slightly_? You totally wrote her off! She could be a total badass with that thing.."

"I highly doubt that, Noah," the clock sniffs. "While the cat was an unexpected development, I remain confident that my initial appraisal of the girl was accurate."

Lord Tubbington's tail goes all stiff as he tenses up in Brittany's arms, and she can't blame him because she's starting to feel the same way. She doesn't understand half the thing the clock has said but they sound mean, and never in all the times she's imagined McKinley did she think it would be another one of _those places_. She wants to say something to prove the clock wrong, but the chicken voices its thoughts first.

"Are you insane, Rachel? This changes everything! What don't you get?"

"Fine, so the demon cat was a surprise. But _she_ is probably just another dumb blonde-"

_It isn't what she expected at all._

"It's not nice to talk about people like that, you know."

The words are out of Brittany's mouth before she can help it, and if she weren't so upset she would have laughed at the way her speech makes the creatures turn around so fast that they almost crash into each other.

"You can understand us?" the clock asks at last, looking at her all surprised and confused and sort of happy. Brittany knows that look. It's that look she gets on her face when someone tells her something cool that she doesn't know. She knows because that happens a lot when people talk to her, and once she checked in the mirror to see what it looked like.

She used to get that look on her face when people told her stories about McKinley. But she doesn't feel like that any more, only disappointed.

"Of course I can. I'm not stupid."

The clock recoils indignantly. "I didn't mean-" it begins, but Brittany has had enough.

"Yes you did," she argues, feeling the tears forming in her eyes and blinking them back determinedly. "Everyone does, and I hate it. How would you feel if everyone said you were stupid, or ugly, or horrible?"

"I know it-"

"No, you don't," she insists. "You don't get it. You don't know what it's like to have people talk to you like you're five all the time. Just because I don't know some of the words you use, doesn't mean you can talk about me and how dumb I am like I'm not there."

"I was only-"

Brittany never gets to find out what the clock was only because it falls silent mid-sentence as a voice rings out from somewhere out of sight. It is barely louder than a whisper, but there is something eerily commanding about the tone that has them all freezing instantly.

"I'm impressed, Jewberry," the voice drawls, coldly amused. "I didn't think it was possible to irritate anyone so quickly, but yet again you take the annoying midget act to new extremes."

The clock's eyes have gone all wide again and the chicken is starting to back away slowly, but Brittany is too busy trying to work out where the voice is coming from to notice.

"But really, is that any way to welcome our, ah-"

The voice sounds again, closer this time, and Brittany realises with a jolt that whatever is speaking is standing behind her. She turns around slowly, and her mouth drops open as she spots the _thing _just as it breathes its final word.

"-_guest?"_

* * *

As if in slow motion, Noah watches as the Bitch emerges from around the corner of the lockers, surveying the scene imperiously as she goes, the light of the setting sun glinting off her armour in a way that makes him wonder if she has planned this entrance. When she notices the girl standing in the middle of the corridor she freezes for a fraction of a second as if startled, but recovers so quickly that Noah thinks he must have imagined it.

The blonde girl turns to see what they are looking at and almost drops her cat in shock as she notices the Bitch for the first time.

Noah and Rachel's eyes swivel backwards and forwards between the two, watching as they size each other up. Or at least, the Bitch does. The other girl is merely staring open-mouthed at the latest apparition.

"Who _are_ you?" she finally asks in a small voice.

The Bitch makes an odd jerking gesture with her arm, almost as if she was going to shake hands but had stopped herself just in time. If he didn't know any better, Noah would have thought she was nervous. But nervousness was a sign of weakness only displayed by humans, and as such she had banished it from her repertoire years ago.

"Head Bitch in Charge," she introduces herself coolly. "Most people just call me the Bitch though."

Noah desperately wants to laugh at how weird she is acting, but he gets the feeling that even in this uncharacteristically awkward state the Bitch is probably still vicious enough to rip out his guts with her bare hands if he so much as chuckles.

"I'm Brittany," the blonde girl replies, with a strange lilt to her voice that suggests that she's not entirely convinced that what she has said is true. After a pause, she adds, "You look like a knight."

The Bitch snorts involuntarily at this, and Noah has to turn his head quickly into his wing to stifle the grunt of laughter that has escaped him.

"Yeah, okay, whatever," the Bitch says after a moment, her voice deliberately casual.

There is a pause while she gazes at Brittany contemplatively before speaking again.

"Wheels was too scared to come back then?" she asks, starting to regain some of her usual confidence.

"Wheels?"

"Your _friend_ in the wheelchair."

"Oh, Artie!" Brittany's face lights up suddenly at the mention of the boy, and Noah starts to wonder whether he might have misjudged her chances with the Bitch after all. "I couldn't just leave him behind by himself, so I said I'd come here instead."

"Okay, that explanation makes _no _sense-"

Privately Noah agrees with Rachel, but even he knows that _dude, you don't just say things like that_. The Bitch sends her a glare fierce enough to shut her down before she can even finish her sentence and Brittany continues talking, apparently oblivious.

"He said he saw an ice monster in here," she tells them confidingly. Then she pauses, and they can almost see the cogs grinding in her head as she puts everything together.

"Oh my gosh," she says, staring at the Bitch with a look of wide-eyed incredulity. "It's you. You're the monster."

For the first time in living memory, the Bitch is lost for words. As Noah and Rachel watch, feeling almost as if they are intruding on something, Brittany continues to gape at the Beast before her with oddly blank features, white she stares unblinkingly back, her expression indecipherable behind her visor. To everyone's surprise, it is the Bitch who looks away first.

"Yeah, well," she says, shifting awkwardly on the spot. "I guess I am."

There is another pause as everyone studiously avoids eye contact, with the exception of Brittany who is still staring around blankly.

"Puckerman will show you to your room," the Bitch says abruptly, breaking the silence that had fallen in the corridor. And without another word she turns on her heel and strides off, armour clinking softly as she goes, with Rachel scurrying hastily after her.

* * *

_Wow okay started writing this and then suddenly BAM ten pages, so I had to split the chapter again. That (hopefully) means a quick update next time, although I'm in the middle of exam period at that moment so I'm not entirely sure when. Reviews and feedback are and will always be appreciated. Thanks for reading (:_

_Incidentally, I caved and got a tumblr account a while ago (quasiwhitegirl). It's not likely to have any updates on my writing, seeing as my real-life friends don't actually know that I write fanfiction, but if it ever gets so long between updates that you start to wonder if I'm still alive that might give you some idea of what I'm up to._


	5. Running from Realisations

"Sorry about the Bitch," Noah offers after a few minutes of leading the girl and her cat through the maze of corridors in silence. To his relief, neither human nor animal have shown any signs of aggression since the earlier confrontation, but he keeps a safe distance ahead of them. _Just in case_.

"Is that her real name?" the girl asks suddenly. The question takes him by surprise and he actually has to stop and think about the answer for a while.

_It can't be her real name, what sort of screwed up parents call their kid Bitch? No, she must have a real name, but damned if he could remember it. It had been so long since anyone had used it that he wasn't sure if anyone knew it any more._

"I don't know," he says, frowning. "I mean, I doubt it, but who knows? We've always just called her the Bitch."

Brittany nods but doesn't say anything, apparently content to follow him wordlessly through the hallways of the school.

"Sorry about Rachel too," he adds, almost as an afterthought.

She looks up suddenly, and Noah catches a flicker of _something_ passing across her features before they settle back into her previous blank expression. Guessing that it is girl code for "I'm not about to kill you just yet", he continues.

"We didn't mean to bitch about you, I swear, it's just-" he exhales loudly, and the noise sounds so odd coming from a chicken that Brittany has to bite back a smile.

"We don't get out much," he ends up telling her. "Talking to people, legit people like you? Kinda rare for us. We thought maybe they couldn't hear us at all, or they thought they were crazy, hearing clocks and animals talking to them."

"So why are you a chicken?" she asks, forgetting to be mad at him for a moment.

"Rooster," he corrects automatically, before sighing again. "Look, it's a long story, and I-"

They turn a corner and it's as if someone has flipped the switch on a sound system. Suddenly there are voices drifting down the corridor towards them, echoing off the walls and drowning out the end of Noah's sentence.

"Oh hell to the no!" someone exclaims loudly from a room ahead. "She didn't!"

"She did!" another voice chokes out, higher in pitch than the first. In Brittany's arms, Lord Tubbington's ears prick up and he goes suddenly still as he listens. "And you're not going to believe this, but she actually burst in and-"

The end of the sentence is drowned out by a fresh wave of cackling. Brittany looks to Puck for an explanation, only to find that he is no longer hopping along beside them. Instead, he has stopped moving along the corridor and is in fact backing nervously away from them, not taking his eyes off Lord Tubbington who has begun to hiss softly again.

"Your room's down the end," he calls to her, still shuffling clumsily backwards down the hallway. "I'll just leave you to it then!"

And with that, he darts around the far corner and vanishes from sight.

Brittany stares after him for a moment, puzzled. Then she turns and continues along the corridor, following the sound of the echoing voices that grow louder with every step she takes, until finally she finds herself standing directly in front of the closed door, staring at the painted wood and wondering if she should knock.

After a minute, she raises her hand to tap at the door but the renewed conversation from inside makes her stop.

"I can't believe she bought that enchanted school story," the first voice chokes out between giggles.

"Oh, tell me about it," the second rejoins fondly. "I mean, she looks sharp enough but sometimes it's like she doesn't even _think_-"

Brittany is startled when the voices cut off abruptly, as if they have been interrupted. She makes to peek around the door to see what is happening, but is surprised to find that she seems to have already pushed it aside and moved past it completely; she is now standing in the middle of the room, breathing heavily and glaring around at her surroundings.

There's no-one there. The room is empty apart from her and a few oddly decorative pieces of furniture that look out-of-place in the disused classroom.

"Can we help you?"

She whirls around quickly to stare in the direction the voice had come from but there's still nothing there, only a high-backed, elegantly carved dressing table, its surface in pristine condition, its ornately framed mirror reflecting-

_Wait_, Brittany frowns. That isn't her face..

"Um, hello?" the high voice prompts, and this time she sees the lips of the boy in the mirror move as he talks. She opens her own mouth to speak but words fail her again.

"What the hell," the original voice rejoins, and when Brittany swings around this time she is much quicker to realise that the speaker is the large mahogany wardrobe standing against the wall opposite the door.

"How did you even get in here? Who are you anyway?"

"I'm Brittany," she replies automatically, before remembering that she's supposed to be angry. "But it's not like you don't know that. I heard you talking about me just then."

The wardrobe and the mirror exchange sideways glances as Brittany scowls at them, before the wardrobe speaks again.

"Uh, we kinda weren't."

"Um, yes you were," she retorts.

"No, we really weren't," the wardrobe repeats.

"I'm not as dumb as you think I am, I heard what you said!" she snaps, before raising her voice to mimic the one she had heard before.

"_It's like she doesn't even think!_"

"Look, Brittany," the mirror cuts in hastily. "I'm not entirely sure what you're doing here or why you were eavesdropping on our conversation, but let me assure you that it wasn't about you."

"Then who was it about?" she asks disbelievingly.

The two pieces of furniture exchange looks again, but this time the wardrobe appears to be stifling a smile.

"Yeah, why don't you tell us, Kurt?"

"Because, Mercedes, it's none of your business," the mirror says tightly, a hint of colour rising to the pale cheeks behind the glass. The wardrobe shifts back in mock surrender.

"Hey, I was just-"

"That's kind of rude," Brittany interrupts, and both creatures start suddenly as if they had forgotten she was still there.

"It was kind of rude for you to barge in like that," the wardrobe points out after a moment.

"It was kind of rude for you talk about me behind my back," she counters immediately.

"Okay, we weren't even talking about you," the mirror speaks up.

"Kurt's right," the wardrobe agrees. "We didn't even know you were here 'til you came storming in."

"Whatever," Brittany defends stubbornly. "It's still rude to talk like that about people."

"No," the boy in the mirror argues. "What's rude is for you to burst in here, acting like you own the place, and then try to tell us what we can and can't do."

Brittany has never been so confused. He called her dumb, and somehow _she_ was the one in the wrong?

"You're doing it again," she tells him.

Mirror Boy hums noncommittally, raising one eyebrow in challenge.

"Oh, but of course. And what am I doing now?"

"Making me feel stupid."

"Well, maybe there's a reason for that!" he shoots back.

"Alright guys, let's just chill for a second," the wardrobe says, sounding slightly alarmed, but the boy in the mirror seems to have gotten himself worked up for a fight.

"No, Mercedes," he argues, glaring hotly at the two of them through slightly steamed up glass. "She has no right to- to just _barge _in here, accuse us of lying, refuse to listen to us and then complain that we're _unfairly_ calling her stupid-"

With an angry yowl, Lord Tubbington launches himself out of Brittany's arms in the direction of the dresser. Mirror Boy lets out a high-pitched squeal as the cat lands heavily on the desk and careers headlong into the glass, hitting it with a resounding crash.

Brittany doesn't stick around to find out what happens next. Heart racing, she turns and flees the room, the muffled shrieks and howls seeming to follow her as she tears down the corridors, unable to shake the nagging feeling of disappointment out of her head.

She doesn't know where she is going, but she doesn't care. It doesn't matter where she ends up, as long as it's somewhere else. She doesn't even pause to help Noah, who lets out an indignant squawk as she barrels around a corner and almost runs him over.

All that matters is getting far, far away from here.

She keeps running long after the voices have faded away, drowned out by the pounding of her heart and the rhythm of her feet against the floor. She stops only when she is physically unable to continue any further, bursting through a random door and collapsing to the ground.

After a few minutes, she drags herself into a sitting position, trying to get her breathing under control, but instead her uneven gasps deteriorate into dry sobs that wrack her chest as she slumps against the wall.

She has spent half her life hoping, wishing, dreaming of getting into McKinley, but now that she is there all she wants to do is escape this place.

* * *

_Still halfway through exams, but whatever. Are you getting frustrated with how slowly this is progressing? Because I am. So, no more split chapters, and hopefully there will be more action and less standing around talking in the future._

_I'm going to be buzzing off to Europe for most of July so it'll probably be a while til the next update, but I'm hoping to use the plane (and jet lag) time to get everything planned out to hopefully speed up updates once I'm back. In the meantime, if you're missing Santana (and aren't a diehard Brittana shipper) I have a couple of Westana pieces uploaded that I'm rather fond of.. and, of course, you could always review :P_


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